


Princess Luke

by pitypartyof1



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: M/M, honestly don't feel like doing them, sorry i'm lazy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 05:18:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17176634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pitypartyof1/pseuds/pitypartyof1
Summary: Just a bit of cute Muke.





	Princess Luke

**Author's Note:**

> Well... Here you go.

Luke wails, curled against the meager bed of straw in his tower. Golden curls, tangled with dirt and tears, fall past his eyes. He could hear movement in the castle below him, his captor prowling the halls. He fears the grief in his heart will cause his very chest to cave in, every bone cracking and falling to dust.

Exiled as he is, he should never have attempted to steal food from this castle’s kitchens. But, he’d been so hungry. With no money to his name, in enemy lands, and so very far from the nearest village where he would not be known and captured upon sight, what more could he do? He’d managed a roll with some stewed vegetables and meat before being found out by the king himself. Despite taking the utmost of care, he’d still been caught. Rotten luck that the king, too, wanted a snack. Rotten luck than he came himself instead of sending a servant who may have been sympathetic.

It matters little now, he knows. This tower is oh so very high. There is nary a hope of escape and the chance of rescue, even slimmer than that. No one will be looking for him, he’s worth nothing as an exiled princess. His family will pay no ransom, he will not be rescued.

As time passes, the wails slowly subside to soft, forlorn cries of despair. Still, sobs no longer wrack his frame, and Luke is able to get some of his breath back.

Sweat dampens his ragged garments already, pricking under his arms, at the back of his neck, and along his hairline. The mid-afternoon sun streaming through the lone window has heated the space to an uncomfortable degree.

Thirsty. Luke would give anything for just a drop of water from the well. His throat aches, dry as the far-off desert lands he’d heard of as a child. He sits, drenched, wishing he’d thought to take a bit of water from the kitchens before he’d been caught. Eyes aching, he levers himself up, scrubbing fingers over his damp cheeks, wiping away the evidence of his sorrow and worrying teeth at his plump bottom lip.

How long can he last before he’ll break? How long before he gains splinters in his fists pounding at the locked door? No bathroom, no food, no water, sweltering hot – Luke can’t see himself holding out long at all in this misery.

“Lucas!”

Luke cowers against the exposed beams of the wall, shrinking himself as much as possible. Stuffing his fingers into his ears, he scrunches his eyes shut. His captor is calling for him. Locked as he is in this tower, his captor must mean to frighten him by calling his name in such a way. After all, he can be at no loss to know where Luke is being kept.

“Lu-uke!”

The second shout has a sing-song quality to it, teasing and reveling in Luke’s terror. The voice is loud enough to break through his meagre defense against it. It sounds closer than the last and Luke shivers, lips pressed tightly together, caught between his teeth. Why is he doing this? What does he gain from tormenting his captive princess further?

“Luke?”

The voice is softer, questioning, right outside the trap door. Fat tears trickle down Luke’s cheeks once again, as he holds his breath, hoping his silence will deter the man below. The room is quite small and to the blonde’s dismay, there’s not a single place to hide. He does his best to slither over the mess of straw and wooden floor boards, attempting to conceal himself behind a large post as a creaking rattle resonates through the small space. The lock of the trap door. The evil bastard was opening the lock. Luke swallows down the lump in his throat.

“Luke?” Michael calls again, ascending the drop-down ladder and poking his head into the attic. Spotting Luke sunken down against a support beam, he sighs softly so the blonde won’t hear him before crawling up into the small space.  “You’re being very dramatic, you know,” he informs him, settling by his side.

Pulling Luke into his lap, he’ tucks the younger boy’s face into his neck and strokes at his curls, rocking a little. “I’m sorry I shouted at you earlier. I was very frustrated, but that didn’t make it okay.”

Luke nods, sniffling against Michael’s neck and whining softly. “’M sorry too daddy. I was just really hungry.”

“I know,” Michael hushes him softly. “I know you were, but you knew that food was for our dinner tonight. It’s okay though, there’s plenty left. I don’t want us to waste anymore time worrying about it, okay?”

Nodding again, Luke lifts his face from Michael’s neck, staring up at him with shining eyes. “Love you, daddy,” he whispers.

“I love you too, princess.” Michael smiles, reaching warm fingers under Luke’s shirt and tickling his tummy, laughing as he feels the muscles jump under the touch while Luke squirms. “I’m curious though,” he relents after a moment as Luke catches his breath. “Why did you hide up here? It’s awful up here, hot and stuffy and gross.”

Cheeks flooding with a light color, the blonde shrugs shyly, ducking his head against Michael’s chest. “Was pretending to be a real princess locked up in my tower by the evil king,” he admits softly.

Michael giggles softly, rubbing soothingly at his back. “That’s so fucking cute,” he grins, “I know I was the evil king, but now that everything’s okay, does that mean I get to be your night in shining armor rescuing you too?”

Luke’s head pops up quickly, and he kisses Michael eagerly. “Mhmm, you’re always my knight!”

“Good, then let’s go down and snuggle for a bit. Then we can finish getting ready for Cal and Ash to come over tonight. Sound good?” he asks, standing slowly and helping the blonde up. Together, they shuffle over to the ladder and down, Michael holding Luke’s hips to steady him as he lowers himself.

Luke’s steps have a definite dragging quality as they make their way to the den. It’s darker there, easier to nap, Michael figures as he leads the blonde. “Get comfy,” he instructs gently, guiding Luke to their oversized sofa. “I’m going to go get a blanket for us – your favorite fluffy white one, yeah?”

Returning with said blanket over his shoulder, he finds Luke curled up, his knees to his chest and snoring lightly. Lips quirking fondly, he settles the blanket over him, climbing gently onto the sofa and curling himself around the snoozing boy.

His amazing little princess, Michael kisses his temple lightly. He wouldn’t trade a thing for the wonderful boy in front of him with the fantastic imagination and open heart. He’s never been more in love.

**Author's Note:**

> I do hope this wasn't terrible. If you've made it this far, drop a comment and let me know your thoughts?


End file.
